The forest thinned as dawn painted the horizon in streaks of amber and ash. Vexa's boots crunched over frost-covered moss, her silver blade still sheathed at her hip but her hand never straying far from the hilt. The bond with Rook hummed beneath her skin, a constant, warm thrum that let her feel the weight of his exhaustion—and the flicker of unease coiled in his gut.
"You're tense," she said, her voice cutting through the silence.
Rook's jaw tightened. He'd shifted back to human form hours ago, but the curse's dark scars still pulsed faintly along his collarbone, a reminder of how close he'd come to losing himself. "The pack won't take this well. A vampire hunter as my bonded? They'll see you as a threat. A traitor."
Vexa's ice-blue eyes narrowed. "Your pack or your pride?"
"Both," he admitted, his tone sharp with frustration. "The Gray Wolves have fought vampires for generations. My father died stopping a coven from raiding our territory. If they learn you're a half-blood…" He trailed off, glancing at the mark on his wrist—the wolf's head wrapped in thorns that now linked their souls. "They'll demand I kill you."
She stopped walking, planting her feet. "Then why bring me?"
"Because you're the only one who can keep the curse at bay," he said, turning to face her. "And because I swore an oath. I don't break my word."
Before she could reply, a low growl rumbled through the trees.
Vexa's hand flew to her blade, but Rook caught her wrist, his grip firm. "Wait. It's my sister."
A woman stepped into the clearing, her fur the color of storm clouds, her eyes a piercing gold. She was smaller than Rook, but her posture radiated authority—shoulders squared, claws extended, lips curled in a snarl. When her gaze landed on Vexa, her hackles rose.
"Rook," she snarled, her voice a mix of human and wolf. "What is this? A vampire? In our lands?"
"Lira, this is Vexa," Rook said, stepping between them. "She's not our enemy."
"Not our enemy?" Lira laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "She wears a silver blade. Her blood reeks of vampire magic. You've bonded with a hunter? Have you lost your mind?"
"The Shadow Eaters are hunting us both," Rook said, his voice rising. "Her blood is the only thing keeping the curse from consuming me. Without her, I'll turn into a monster. And then the pack will have to kill me anyway."
Lira's snarl faltered. She studied the scars on Rook's chest, her eyes widening as she saw how far the corruption had spread. "The curse… it's worse."
"It's why I need her," he said, his tone softening. "She's our only chance."
Vexa watched the exchange, her hand still on her blade. She could feel Lira's rage through the bond—hot, sharp, and personal. But beneath it, there was fear. Fear for her brother. Fear for the pack.
"Prove it," Lira said, turning to Vexa. "Prove you're not here to destroy us."
Vexa hesitated, then sliced her palm open with her blade, letting her blood drip onto the ground. The silver metal glowed faintly, and the frost beneath her feet melted, replaced by tiny blue flowers that bloomed in the wake of her blood.
Lira's eyes widened. "Pure blood. Like the old tales."
"The Shadow Eaters feed on corrupted blood," Vexa explained, pressing her palm to the mark on her wrist. "Mine purifies it. It's why they're hunting me. It's why they want Rook—his curse makes his blood a feast for them."
Lira stepped closer, sniffing the air. The tension in her shoulders eased, but her gaze remained sharp. "The pack will need more than a trick of blood to trust you. They'll want a trial."
"A trial?" Vexa repeated, her brow furrowed.
"To prove your loyalty," Lira said, her tone cold. "You'll fight one of our warriors. If you win, you stay. If you lose…" She bared her fangs. "We'll tear you apart."
Rook stepped forward, his voice angry. "Lira, that's—"
"Enough," she cut him off, her gaze never leaving Vexa. "This is the only way. For the pack to accept her, she must earn her place."
Vexa sheathed her blade, wiping the blood from her palm. "I'll fight."
Rook grabbed her arm, his eyes filled with alarm. "You're exhausted. You can't—"
"I can," she said, pulling away. "And I will. Your pack doesn't trust me? Fine. I'll make them."
Lira nodded, a flicker of respect in her eyes. "Meet us at the training ring at sunset. Bring your blade. And be ready to bleed."
As Lira vanished into the trees, Rook turned to Vexa, his expression grim. "She'll pick Kael. The strongest warrior in the pack. He hates vampires more than anyone."
Vexa smiled, a sharp, dangerous curve of her lips. "Good. I like a challenge."
But as they walked toward the pack's camp, the bond between them hummed with doubt. Rook feared for her life. Vexa feared for her pride. And somewhere in the shadows, the Shadow Eaters watched—waiting for the moment their pact shattered, and their prey fell.